In youth and books
by TimeDetonated
Summary: Exploring what happened to the relationship between Faramir and his father. Please review!


A/N: I wasn't going to publish this because I didn't like it but my sister who was going to read a new story I was writing accidentally read this one and said that if I didn't post it she would bludgeon me, and I prefer living so...

In youth and books

5 years old

"Father!"

As if out of know where a small child bolted across the room and into the arms of a surprised steward whose hearty laughter filled the large white stone room

"How is the world best captain?" asked the steward through laughs as he hoisted the child into his arms. Noticing the small, toy, wooden, army men sitting in the corner of the room, forgotten in the boys excitement to reach his father.

The boy pouted in his arms, "Boromir had to leave to arms practice when we were playing!" exclaimed the small disgruntled child. "He said he would play with me but he left"

"Well," said the steward, placing a kiss onto of his youngest sons head "Boromir has to practice so he becomes strong and can protect all of Gondor, but would you like me to play with you instead?"

At this the little Childs head shot up as he began wriggling in the steward arms, who laughed and set him on the floor. The boy raced over to the little army men and immediately began assembling them in to lines, waiting for the steward to join him

7 years later

12 years old

Faramir walked through the palace a book tucked under his arm as he made his way towards his father's study. His teacher, Mithrandir had showed him an old book on ancient lore and he was eager to share it with his father.

For a 12 year old Faramir was extremely well mannered and polite for a boy of his age, for most people would believe the steward son to be pampered and spoilt but Faramir was the opposite. Faramir had a quiet intelligence about him that one could see as he stood staring off at nothing, but his lips pressed in a firm line from thought. While other boys his age were concerned with only expanding their strength, Faramir sought to expand his mind. A trait that had caught the old grey wizard Gandalf's attention immediately, and lend him to become his pupil.

Faramirs father didn't have time to spoil his youngest son, ever since Finduilas had died, Denethor had spent most of his time running the slowly declining country of Gondor as the white tree withered in the desolate courtyard of stone, doomed to wait upon a king that's very existence was only whispered in quiet voices. In fact, Faramir would go days without seeing his father, so he spent most of his time when he was not in lessons reading or talking with Boromir.

Boromir was very dear to Faramir. In the time after their mother's deaths, Boromir was always there for him. Like the walls on the shore of Dol Amroth that shielded him from icy sprays, Boromir did all he could to shield him from the grief of the world. In times when his father was too busy for Faramir, Boromir was always sure to make time for him, and listen to his tales from Mithrandir on the kings of old, however boring Boromir thought them. But Boromir wasn't always home any more, him being of the age of 17, he was often on patrols along the borders of Gondor and would be gone for weeks on end, leaving young faramir to stare out the window eagerly awaiting his approach. It was lonely, being the steward's son, for he barley went out beyond the citadel so he would not see the other children and in his young days Boromir had been the only friend he needed.

Luckily Faramir thought as he neared his father's door Boromir was home today, and hopefully if he wasn't still too tied from the patrol he could tell him of today's lessons with Mithrandir. Slowly faramir knocked on the steward's door.

"Come in!" faramir hesitated for the steward voice sounded annoyed but he opened the door anyway and entered the small dark room. There the steward sat in his elegant dark fur robes at his desk with his back to his son and his hands on his head as he poured over treaties and permits, the firelight hid the gray in his hair as it danced across his form.

Faramir never did like this room, it was dark and stifling, the floor covered in plush fur rugs and the walls lined with bookcases and old documents. Faramir was so excited to show his father the book that he didn't notice how morose the stewards seemed

"Father, I was in the library and Mithrandir showed me this book!" began faramir excitedly holding out the old dusty volume, but as he held it out voices began to swirl in the steward head, and they were familiar.

Earlier that day the steward had gone up to the tower to look for and old charter book that hadn't been looked at in years and he thought that maybe It would be up there, but as the steward opened the heavy wooden door to the tower he noticed something he never saw before….

There, in the middle of the room sat a marble pedestal with a delicately placed velvet cloth atop it. But there was something under the cloth and it called to him, but the steward was strangely reproachful as there rest of the world seemed to sink away and all he could see, could hear was whatever was under the cloth calling to him.

Why shouldn't he look? It was his anyway, him being the steward. so slowly he walked towards it and gripped the soft cloth slowly pulling it away. The cloth slid away to reveal a perfect sphere of some sort of stone inside there appeared to be a glowing light with small pictures flickering across it, too small to see.

Delicately the steward reached put to feel to smooth stone and he gasped as dark images filled his head.

The white walls of his city fell under a dark shadow, and all around him was death. The lifeblood of men was spilt upon the fields of the Pelennor. Staining the greedy earth red, and laying at his feet was his son Boromir…..

He suddenly found himself on the citadel, and the white tree of kings was ripe with a flame that greedily ate at the wood, and the steward stood powerless as he watched the stone city degrade into dust, blowing away in some unseen wind. And the steward saw his youngest son, looking down on the destruction with bored contempt. His sword laying discarded at his feet, he turned his back on the city he was meant to protect….

Then voices filled his head, whispering of lies and deceit, of traitorous deeds and how no one could be trusted. The steward yanked his hands away as a sense of dread filled him. But it was too late. It was then, on the small time when Denethor glanced into the seeing stone that he began to fall. _It __was __the __beginning__ of __the __end__ o __Denethor._

The steward glanced up at the book held in front of him and the smiling face of his second son. _Second__ son__…__._the voices whispered in his head _he __will__ betray__ you__…__he__ will __fail __you__…_

It was then Denethor was filled with a rage. He looked up and glared at his son. "Books" he spat "what use are books in Gondor when our destruction draws near?" Faramir's smile slowly fell and was replaced with a look of shock and hurt, never had his father spoken to him thusly, even if they barley saw each other. The steward continued speaking "you are weak, you will never be a great warrior, you have deserted Gondor in her time of need, leave me" Faramir slowly backed out of the room, not believing what his father had said, even when he was angry he had never spoken such.

the steward looked up as the door closed and he had a fleeting thought that maybe he shouldn't have talked to his son in such a way. He was just trying to share a book with him. But that thought was as said; fleeting and It left his head as suddenly as it came to be replaced by those of the palantir

All he wanted to do was share his life with his father thought faramir, he barley saw him anyway, maybe he was just stressed from all the work? But then the steward biting words filled Faramirs head "_you__ are__ weak,__ you__ will__ never __be __a__ great__ warrior__" _did his father really think so little of him? Tears filled Faramirs eyes as he turned away from the door to find himself face to face with Boromir, who had heard everything. "Come, little brother" said Boromir smiling weakly down at him and taking the young child's hand in his own "I would love to hear of this book"

A/N: Special thx to darkcarnival. Please review...might continue..


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